Wild Boy of the Brewster Projects
by booey875
Summary: The deteriorating condition of a young nephew back home brings Kinch to a fate he never imagined: an early departure from Stalag 13. (Based on Challenge #20, 'The Staying Alive Challenge', proposed by 96 Hubbles in Forum XIIIc.)
1. Prologue: Detroit Here I Come

I would like to say Thank You to Book 'Em Again for betaing this.

Author's Notes/Disclaimer: I don't own any show or characters except my own. All of Kinch's family are characters of my own invention.

This story will be told in flashback and will be incorporating elements of show episodes. If a chapter is named after an episode, it will deal with the episode or with the timeframe right around it and it may contain canon dialogue. Every chapter will be from Kinch's POV, unless I state otherwise.

Finally and most importantly, this fanfiction will be about an undiagnosed case of autism or autism spectrum disorder (ASD). The disease was diagnosed in America for the first time in the 1940's, and the initial cases, as documented in the book In A Different Key: The Story of Autism, were used as partial inspiration. I am writing this to raise awareness of the challenges and to celebrate the differences of special needs people and of course no offense is intended.

* * *

"Kinch had confided in him that his nephew was a partially deaf mute, which gave him the idea, Poor kid suffered from 'nerves', was given to tantrums and seemed to be in a world all his own." – Actions Speak Louder Than Words by booey875

Wild Boy of the Brewster Projects

Prologue – Detroit, Here I Come

January 1945

The Allied courier plane took off quickly from an open field located near Hammelburg, Germany. It was a seamless takeoff considering the circumstances, although the pilots were hardly out of harm's way until they got past the German border.

Sgt. James Ivan Kinchloe, nicknamed "Kinch", gazed down at the war-torn countryside below. He had been a POW at Stalag 13 for the last three years, but he had been in no way just an ordinary prisoner. There had secretly been an underground rescue and sabotage operation located there for years and Kinch had played a key role in being the radioman of the group.

And now? Kinch was actually going home to Detroit.

 _At the rate these guys are flying, I could be home in time for Hank Greenberg's first game back with the Tigers,_ Kinch thought.

Kinch was surprised he was going home but he shouldn't have been; he had always believed that his team had made the impossible happen every day. So why would he be surprised that they could send him home?

He remembered the looks on everyone's faces when he left the Stalag. There hadn't been a dry eye on the faces of his fellow POWs and he was convinced that his German captors were happy for him, too. Although no one said anything, he was sure almost all of the POWs secretly envied him.

Kinch, however, wondered if it was the right call. There were rumors that the war was winding down, but he personally didn't see it. The mere fact that his courier plane had to avoid certain areas due to the Battle of the Bulge proved that Germany still had fight left.

He had always believed that the war was a just one and he felt proud that his country had recruited him from the phone company. So why was he so torn? Was accepting the assignment home the right decision?

Kinch thought about the reception he would receive upon returning home. He wished to be honored for his service, but he doubted it could happen. He wouldn't be allowed to talk about the role he played, and even if he did, he was sure people would give credit to only the white people involved. He admitted to himself that future prejudice at home frightened him, and for that reason he would have been better off at Stalag 13 where he was treated as an equal.

Air turbulence jostled the plane, but his seatbelt kept him from flying out his seat. As he fell forward, a photo fell from his pocket.

Kinch choked up as he looked at the photo.

The black and white photo was of his almost four year old nephew, Billy, sitting on the grass back home. The picture of the child was ordinary in every way except for the boy's facial expression. While most children would look and smile back at the camera (and most likely the parent holding it), this child stared into space. For not the first time, Kinch wondered how it was possible for him to appear so apart from society while within it.

Kinch gulped. _Yes_ , he thought _, this was the right decision_.

But could he really make a difference in his nephew's life? He hoped so—it had to be worth a try.

* * *

Battle of the Bulge at: www. army . Mil / botb /

Hank Greenberg at: baseballhall org hof / greenberg-hank


	2. 1: The Prince from the Phone Company

Chapter 1 – The Prince from the Phone Company

THREE YEARS EARLIER

Kinch wasn't sure what was worse about the last mission: kissing a beautiful Princess and then watching her leave, or shaving off his beloved mustache.

It was hard not to think the latter as he ripped off the fake mustache, which was a temporary solution while a real one grew back. The spot above his lips itched like crazy and he was always glad to take it off for a while.

He slid into his seat behind the radio. He popped on his headphones to see if there was word from London and it was quiet.

He had told the Princess that he was stuck here, and part of him was glad. It was an honor to be part of this group, and this role in particular. The other members of the team were almost family to him, and it would be hard to see them go.

Although he did miss home and his family which reminded him of the letter that Sergeant Hans Schultz had just dropped off to him. It was a letter from his younger (and only) sibling Josephine, and he couldn't wait to rip it open.

He had always been close to Josephine. And that was because unfortunately due to tragedy, he had to help raise her.

Kinch and his sister Josephine had been born in Detroit to his Papa, who worked as a plumber, and his Mama, who worked as a maid. Although the family could afford a better home, the four of them had lived in a boarding house instead, and that was only because Kinch's parents were selfless in trying to give Kinch and his sister the best education and life they could.

Their parents wanted their children to be educated, so they used savings to buy brand new books to add to the collection of old ones they found in the garbage bins of libraries and schools. Their parents took out loans and used any professional contacts to get Kinch and Josephine into technical schools.

Kinch developed a fondness for both electronics and foreign languages as a result of his parents. He was grateful as both of those talents were necessary in the job he was currently in.

Then the tragedy struck. His Mama had been involved in a car accident, and died as a result.

The family was thrown into despair. Papa Kinchloe was stoic during the day but once home, cried for hours each night. He threw himself harder into work to keep his mind of it. A teenage Kinch had to watch and tutor Josephine after she got home from school.

 _And the fellas here wonder why I act like a mother sometimes,_ Kinch thought.

Kinch forced himself to think about Josephine again as he looked at the letter before him. Time went on and things got a little better. Despite the tragedy, she grew up, and had married a fellow graduate of the technical school. And right before Kinch had shipped out, she had given birth to their first son, a child named William, who they nicknamed Billy. Josephine and her husband John were ecstatic over his birth.

Kinch couldn't wait to hear what she had to say. Was Billy walking yet? Was he talking yet? He ripped the letter open and read:

January 31, 1942

Dear Ivan,

I heard news that you were captured and are in a POW camp. Are you OK? Is life as bad as I think it is? Do you get to see other prisoners? We are worried sick—please write home often about how you are.

Life is going good here, considering there's a war on. It can be difficult to eat since the government began rationing some foods but we should be fine since I will be planting a Victory Garden.

How will I be planting a Victory Garden? Because John got a great job and we are moving into our own home with a lawn!

John was able to get a job *censored* and we are thrilled. Of course, the down side is that the hours are long.

Since John got a job, we *censored* *censored* called the Brewster *censored*, housing. *Censored* *censored* *censored* and they are lovely. I have my own kitchen and lots of space for Billy to grow up and play. The housing seems well built and the neighbors are great. The only downside of the move is that Papa now complains about his extra space back at the boarding house!

I love to take Billy for walks. He seems fascinated by everything, and he loves the stained glass windows in our church.

We have neighbors down the block from us who have a child around Billy's age and I can't wait to see them grow up together. It's nice to talk to the other mother and relate about first-time child rearing.

Some of our experiences are different, though. The other mother envies me because her child cries for her during the night, and Billy is sleeping through with no problem.

I envy her because her child touches her face and grasps for her when she is changing diapers, and Billy doesn't do any of those things. Normally, when I change him, he is not focused on me at all, and he's usually looking at a light bulb that's on. But I don't think it's a concern.

Here's a funny story: my neighbor and I were sitting on the grass outside with both of our babies. We watched them crawl. She called out to her child and her little girl turned around and crawled back right away. I called out to Billy and he totally ignored me. Can you believe this child already?

Hope you are well and write often.

Love,

Josephine Kinchloe Harris

Kinch sighed as he read the letter. It was great to hear from her. He was glad about John's new job—it looked like he got his dream job at Ford Motor Company after all.

He couldn't help but feel the last couple paragraphs of the letter felt odd. Why would Billy rather look at a light bulb than his own mother? Why would Billy not come when called?

 _Perhaps it's just his age—he hasn't even turned one yet_ , Kinch thought, as he tried to push back a nagging feeling that something was wrong.

* * *

History of Brewster Homes/Projects and also mentions how residents worked in Ford's foundry: michiganradio dot org post / here-s- why - brewster- douglass- housing- projects- were- built- 1930s #stream / 0


	3. 2: Request Permission to Escape

Chapter 2 – Request Permission to Escape

Kinch's mind drifted away from Josephine and Billy over the next few months. There was too much to do: fliers to rescue, and missions from London to attend to. He felt bad that they had completely slipped his mind, until the mail arrived again.

Life in the barracks was hectic whenever Schultz and the mail showed up. This time, he was tackled by the prisoners as he arrived and it was left to Colonel Robert Hogan, Kinch's commanding officer, to distribute the envelopes.

Kinch was happy to get an envelope but smirked as he noticed his given name on the front, and not the one he went by. It had to be from the Army.

The message was brief. "Hey, you guys wanna hear something? Get this: 'Mr. James Kinchloe: Greetings. This is to notify you that your final draft classification is now 4F-limited service.' _Now_ they tell me."

Kinch couldn't believe that after all this time, someone in the Army was still holding the color of his skin against him. Did the Army only realize now that he was black? He was lucky that although the 4F really meant he was ineligible to serve, someone got a hold of it and marked it as"limited" instead so he could stay here. And he was grateful for that luck as Hogan and the others needed his talents.

Kinch's mind quickly changed focus as he saw Hogan holding up Sergeant Andrew Carter's letter.

"Dear John," Hogan solemnly said.

Kinch and the others rallied around Carter, who was naturally devastated by the news. Kinch listened as the others offered words of encouragement for Carter, but Carter seemed not to be listening. Kinch felt anguish in his heart as Carter cried out, "Write her off? No sir! Mary Jane can't do this to me! I'm a Sergeant!"

The barracks grew silent due to Carter's outburst.

Unfortunately, the silence did not last long as Schultz came through the door again. But instead of smoothly walking through the doorway into the barracks, Schultz pushed the door so hard, it swung back and hit him square in the face. Once finally inside, Schultz rubbed his nose as he took his place.

"Now _that's_ a way to make an entrance, Schultz." Hogan quipped, as he strolled over.

Schultz was embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Colonel Hogan, but I just realized I had another letter to drop off. Another addressed to Sgt. Kinchloe." he said, as he handed it over.

"Another one for me? I have the luck—where was it, Schultz?" Kinch asked.

Schultz continued to look embarrassed.

"I lost it while I was eating.-" he confessed.

Kinch looked sharply at Schultz.

"I'm just glad that's not what you _were_ eating, Schultz-." Kinch replied.

Schultz glared good-naturedly at Kinch, as he opened the door to leave.

"Jolly joker." Schultz muttered, as he walked out.

Kinch turned to the letter—it was from his sister.

"Josephine-." he happily said.

This happy declaration made Carter madder.

"Gee, that's swell- even he has a girl! I'll be back—I need some air.-" he said, as he walked outside.

Kinch tried to grab him as he stormed out, but was unsuccessful.

"Josephine is my sister, Carter!" he called out after him.

Kinch wanted to chase after Carter but Hogan put a firm hand on his arm.

"Give him some time," Hogan said. "We gotta find another way to cheer him up."

Kinch sighed—he didn't want to work, but he knew he had to. He shoved the letter from Josephine into his pocket and tried to forget about it.

It wasn't long into their brainstorming when Carter barged into Hogan's office and demanded permission to escape.

Kinch was disappointed in Carter. Didn't Carter understand the meaning on why they were all there? Didn't he understand they got nowhere as a group without Carter's bomb making experience? He would have read off the statement of Hogan's mission, but Hogan beat him to it.

HH

Later in the afternoon, Kinch wandered downstairs to the tunnels to monitor the radio. There were no messages to answer and so he finally opened the latest letter. It read:

April 14, 1942

Dear Ivan,

We were so glad to hear from you. I'm glad things seem be going okay. Are you able to hear any news? Are you able to follow any serials? I don't want to bring anything bad up- but did you hear they foreclosed on Mary Noble?

Things are going alright here. Something happened in the city recently. A bunch of black folk wanted to move into an area populated with white folk. The white folk were not happy about it. Papa and John needed to find alternate routes to work for a couple days. I was pretty scared and I needed to protect my child so Billy and I did not go outside then.

The doctor paid us a visit since Billy just celebrated his first birthday. I can't believe he is one already! He is growing so big, so fast. He has pulled himself up and is beginning to take steps. I hope he is walking in no time!

The doctor did mention something that startled me, though. He asked me if Billy has said his first word yet. And I said no. He then asked me if he is making any babbling noises and I also said no. He asked me if he is pointing at things and I said no. The doctor said that usually at Billy's age, a child should be doing that. And then I thought about my neighbor's little girl and she is almost talking. I asked the doctor what was wrong. And the doctor said "It could be something—it may be nothing. Let's wait and see."

Ivan, what kind of answer was that? Is something wrong with Billy? Does the doctor know what's wrong and not telling me? How long do I have to wait to know for sure? Do you think anything is wrong? I wish I could get a second opinion, but I can't afford that.

Please write back soon.

Love,

Josephine Kinchloe Harris

Kinch's eyes widened as he read the last few sentences. He could literally hear her worried voice speaking. He had no idea that the ending of the letter would be that bad. He wanted to comfort Josephine in person.

Kinch thought of Carter and how he was trying to go home. He didn't think he and Carter shared much in common, but at this exact moment, he sympathized with Carter's plight.

Kinch wondered what the others would think of his nephew's issue. He especially wondered how Hogan would react and immediately felt dread. Due to his race, Kinch was already insecure about how the team truly thought about him. He really didn't want the others to think even less of his genetics. He also wanted to handle it himself because if he asked for help, it could be seen as weakness on his part. He would react as his Papa did when his Mama died – and this was acceptable because it was a shorter term crisis—it had to be, right? Part of him was telling him this could be a different scenario but unfortunately, he made his mind up. He couldn't have the others, particularly Hogan, find out—Kinch had gotten too far to risk everything. Kinch was a quiet member of the team and he was fairly sure he could keep quiet about this.

The problem was that there was another person in the camp—a certain rotund Sargent- who knew everything, even though he professed to know nothing. And keeping him quiet would take a scheme that would make the Colonel proud—if the Colonel didn't court-martial him first.

HH

That evening, Kinch snuck out and found Schultz, who was dozing at his usual post.

"Hey, Schultz!" Kinch whispered out to the Sargent.

"Halt! Who goes there? Oh, it's just you, Sgt. Kinchloe. You need to be back in the barracks."

"Want these jellybeans from the Red Cross parcel? And future jellybeans?" Kinch asked, as he offered a bag out.

Schultz looked at him. "Why would I want your jellybeans?" he asked.

Kinch looked up and down Schultz' body. "Do you really need to ask that question, Schultz?"

Schultz lunged for the bag but Kinch pulled it back.

"To get this bag and future bags, you need to make a deal with me. I know you know about my letters from home and I need you to keep quiet if anyone asks, okay? If anyone asks, you have to know _nothing_. Are able to do that?"

" _That_ I can do," Schultz sighed. "But why? Do you not want the others to know about your nephew?"

Kinch frantically looked around to see if anyone had poked their head out of the barracks. "No, I do not want them to know. It is not their concern and I do not need their help, especially Colonel Hogan's."

"But Colonel Hogan may be able to help. He helps with _everything_ ," Schultz replied.

Kinch scoffed. "Hogan has no kids. How can he help with this?"

Schultz pulled a face. "Funny—I thought you, Carter, the cockroach and the Englander are his kids."

Now it was Kinch's turn to pull a face. "Jolly joker, Schultz. Now will you help me?"

"What about The Big Shot?" Schultz asked, as he gestured in the general direction of the Kommandantur.

Kinch knew the Kommandant of Stalag 13, Colonel Wilhem Klink, would know about the letters, also. Although Kinch didn't think Klink cared about the content of prisoner letters, he did think there was a possibility the Kommandant might use the content for his own personal gain against Hogan or the team. Therefore, Klink needed to be kept in the dark and Kinch had set a plan in place.

"Leave Klink to me. I will have fake letters to give him and anyone on our side. Only you will have the true letters back and forth."

Now Schultz scoffed. "Nein, I cannot lie to him! Kommandant Klink is like a father to me!"

Kinch stared at him. "Yeah- a vain, kiss-up, cowardly father, maybe."

"A vain, kiss-up, cowardly father who could send me to the Russian Front."

Kinch was getting annoyed. He didn't want to threaten Schultz—Schultz was likable enough—but he had to. "He will send you to the Russian Front if I make sure the new girlie magazines don't reach him in time. C'mon, help me out!" he pleaded.

A look of realization spread on Schultz' face. "You have a point." he said as he grabbed the bag at last.

Kinch smiled as the deal was agreed to. He only hoped that Schultz wouldn't spill the real beans. How hard could it be to keep this a secret? It wouldn't even be for long—Kinch was fully expecting Billy's development to turn a corner—how bad was it going to get?

* * *

Although Hogan's Heroes says 4F means "Limited", it actually meant "Rejected for military service" in real-life. Potential soldiers were rejected for various reasons such as flat feet, asthma and even skin conditions. According to the second link below, "Black men were passed over initially due to prejudiced questions about their ability to fight and worries that tensions between black and white servicemen might erupt."

www. cufon CRG /memo /74911231 . html

www .americainwwii articles / your-numbers-up /

The historical event mentioned in Josephine's letter is The Sojourner Truth Homes Riot in 1942:

www . blackpast . org aah / detroit-race-riot-1943


	4. 3: The Top Secret Top Coat

Chapter 3 – The Top Secret Top Coat

Several months passed. The thought of Josephine raising Billy stayed in the back of an impatient Kinch's mind. During these months, his sister continued to send him letters- all were filled with updates about old classmates and about Detroit during wartime instead. She would mention Billy of course, but the letters contained no detailed stories about him. Kinch convinced himself that Josephine wasn't mentioning Billy because she had calmed down over the anxiety she had expressed before. Although he didn't think she would have relaxed due to anything he had said in his letter back. He hadn't been sure what advice to give, considering he was a bachelor who had no children.

All that silence about Billy changed one morning when Schultz came in with the mail. This time, the prisoners mostly behaved themselves while they waited for any deliveries. It was a few days before Christmas and everyone was eager to hear from family members during the festive period.

Schultz made eye contact with Kinch as soon as he came in and wiggled his mustache. Kinch took a deep breath—this was his sign from Schultz that there was a letter from Josephine regarding Billy included in the pile and he needed another bribe. He handed the envelope quickly to Kinch first and then made his way to the others.

Kinch couldn't wait to hear what was happening so he stood at the common table and read:

December 15, 1942

Dear Ivan,

Merry Christmas! I hope you have a happy holiday- it was must be awful to celebrate it at that rotten place.

How are things going over there? I am sorry to hear you sleep on such lumpy mattresses—it must be bad for that back of yours. You'll get a sound sleep at home once you come home.

Things are going okay here. Papa has had a couple more customers than usual, so I haven't seen him much lately and John is still working long hours.

John bought me a new red polka dot dress and it is lovely. I wanted to wear something nice because we had a Christmas party and some friends from John's work attended.

At the party, Billy got into a lot of trouble. He is walking now but is fast and hard to keep up with! He seems super interested in watching things fall so there were a lot of messes at the party. Some of the guests brought toys for Billy to play with, but he seems not interested in them. One brought him a toy car and he only wanted to hold it in the air and spin the wheels, rather than roll it on the floor. One of our guests thought we should have more control over Billy, and was upset that Billy wouldn't greet him. I was so upset by his comments and I shunned this guest all night. Then the problem was because this guest turned out to be a supervisor of John's and John and I had a quarrel about it.

Ivan, Billy is still not talking. I am trying to keep calm about it and I have given much time and thought. I am trying to convince myself that he will be talking any day but the waiting is hard. Now it is becoming an issue as strangers are noticing. I take him to the park and every other child his own age is joining two words together but mine says nothing. I try to tell people 'He's just taking his time to talk' and most people understand, but I had another mother tell me that children who are Billy's age who aren't talking yet wind up needing straightjackets! It took all my strength not to punch her or cry— he's only almost two! Couldn't she see he is trying to talk?

I am going to end my letter on a good note. After Billy made a mess at the dinner party, I told him I forgave him and that I loved him. Sometimes he acts deaf, but this time he did not. My little boy turned to me, made eye contact with me and smiled! He smiled at me and it was the most beautiful thing I ever saw.

All of us are thinking of you. We wish you were celebrating with us.

Love,

Josephine Kinchloe Harris

Although parts of her letter brought continued fear and anxiety to Kinch, the last couple paragraphs brought a smile to his face. Next to him, he could hear Corporal Peter Newkirk complaining to Schultz about a missing plum pudding. Kinch was too happy with his letter to care about Newkirk's traditional English holiday treat- there was hope for little Billy.

Kinch's thoughts turned to the here and now when the Colonel opened his door.

After a brief conversation, Schultz handed out a large package to Hogan.

"The last piece of mail. Woolen socks from your Aunt Alice- hand knit," Schultz announced.

That was all the info that Kinch and the others needed. As soon as Schultz was on his way out, Kinch stood up and put away his letter. He headed to Hogan's office with the others. The package was a message that another mission was just starting.

* * *

In my headcanon, "The Top Secret Top Coat" is a Hidden Hogan's Heroes Holiday episode, despite the lack of mentions or decorations. There are many reasons why I believe this- a. It's apparently very cold, appropriate for December; b. Newkirk is given a plum pudding, which is traditionally served during Christmas; c. Hogan getting a "gift"; d. Klink attends a party, and although parties happen throughout the year, more parties still occur during the festive period than any other time. Season's Greetings!


	5. 4: The Reluctant Target

Chapter 4 – The Reluctant Target

Spring was around the corner. Kinch found himself in a typical situation for the season: being the mediator of a quarrel between Privates Barnes and Davis.

Barnes and Davis were usually best friends, but all of that changed at the start of baseball season. The American POWs were bitterly divided on choice of team: Barnes favored the National League's Chicago Cubs, and Davis liked the St. Louis Cardinals, the Cubs' archrival.

Kinch approached them in the mess hall, and found the argument in full swing.

"Dizzy Dean can't pitch himself out of a paper bag!" Davis shouted, as he pointed at Barnes.

Barnes snorted. "You didn't quite say that when Dizzy was pitching for _your_ team."

Kinch managed to step in between them and steered them towards the pieces of sawdust-infused bread the Germans were offering. He looked on sternly as they each took a helping. Kinch was hoping that they would sit apart, but sadly they stayed together. And of course the quarrel continued.

Most of the time, Kinch was able to defuse these silly baseball arguments, but this one got out of hand.

Kinch continued to glare at both men. "Fellas, do you honestly believe a prison camp is the best place for a ... _food fight_?"

The American servicemen ignored Kinch. The ruckus attracted the attention of the rest of the hall, including Hogan, Schultz and Klink.

"At least I don't have my team represented by a pretty little red bird!" Barnes yelled, as he held his bread up high.

Davis smirked. "My team is at least competitive – your Cubs haven't won a World Series since 1908!"

Barnes saw red. He began to fling his bread and Kinch grabbed his arm. Despite his efforts, the bread managed to launch. It flew through the air and promptly hit the face of Klink, causing his monocle to fall and shatter.

Kinch winced. The whole mess hall began to laugh.

Hogan attempted to defuse the situation with humor. "A shattered monocle is _the_ must-have accessory of World War II, Kommandant."

But a humiliated Klink didn't laugh as he rubbed his face and leaned over to pick up the broken eyepiece. Once he was standing, he glared at Kinch and the others and shouted, "All three of them get two weeks in the cooler! Schultz, take them away at once!"

As Kinch was led away by Schultz, Klink stomped off to his office. Hogan followed the Kommandant, eager to see if he could get the sentence eliminated. Kinch hoped Hogan could be successful. If he was, business at the camp would continue as usual. If he wasn't, Hogan did have a backup for the radio and there were times Hogan did need to give Klink the impression that Klink was the one who was running the camp. Sadly for Kinch, Hogan was unsuccessful this time.

HH

At the end of the sentence, the cooler was unlocked and Kinch was let out by Schultz. He walked out into the compound and shielded his eyes from the bright sun, which affected him after being in the dark for so long. Since smoking was forbidden in the cooler, he grabbed a cigarette that was in his pocket and lit it.

After taking a puff, he glanced over at Schultz.

Schultz wiggled his mustache and faced him with a look of absolute sadness. A chill ran down Kinch's spine. Another letter from Josephine so soon? What had happened? And Kinch assumed from the look on Schultz' face, that the news was probably not good.

Kinch accepted the letter and was about to run off when Schultz stopped him.

"Sgt. Kinchloe, I know you want me to say and know nothing, but I truly think this is a time to say _something_ ," Schultz said.

The tone of the usually jovial Schultz voice sounding downright devastated about Kinch's letter was heartbreaking, and Kinch numbly nodded. Although he didn't want to face questions from Hogan, Kinch was lucky that big mouth Schultz had waited this long to be a big mouth. Kinch silently thanked Schultz and hurried away to the barracks.

HH

When Kinch made his way down to the radio room, he found Sergeant Olsen, who was currently acting as backup radioman.

"Well, what did I miss?" Kinch asked.

Olsen smiled. "Actually a lot. Pierre needed to come into camp and get out, but was caught by the Kommandant. In order to free him, the Colonel convinced Klink that Klink's life was in danger, and they switched places and even uniforms. You should have seen the Colonel in Klink's uniform! Meanwhile, Pierre got out safely, and the Colonel learned some other secrets, too."

Kinch chuckled. "Sounds like the usual. Thank you for watching the radio for me. Why don't you hurry upstairs? Newkirk is letting people win for a change."

After Olsen went upstairs, Kinch finally opened the letter.

March 22, 1943

Dear Ivan,

How are conditions at the prison camp? I thought of you recently when I was giving Billy a bath. How often are you allowed to bathe? Are the showers ever hot?

I am writing so soon because life has been frankly terrible lately. I probably don't have a right to complain as you are stuck in a POW camp but…

Someone used a racial slur against John, as he was walking to work. Usually, John is fairly relaxed about it, but this person actually grabbed him. I was so glad he was able to get away! And we were fortunate he did get to work, because he got a slight raise in salary. Apparently the plant *censored* *censored* *censored* *censored* *censored*. John is very pleased he is supporting the war effort by *censored* censored*.

I wish I could give you happy news about our Billy but I can't. His behavior has been pretty bad. I was wondering if behavior of this age could be bad, but I had no idea it would be _this_ bad.

Billy doesn't seem to like change. For example, usually I take Billy to a nearby park after Sunday school but on one particular day, we needed to head home because Papa needed to fix our sink. Billy reacted by throwing a temper tantrum to end all temper tantrums. I have seen other temper tantrums by kids who are Billy's age and they last only a few minutes. Well, Billy's temper tantrum was 45 minutes of Hell! I tried my best to calm him down, but it didn't work- he flailed about so much! Another example happened during dinner time. I usually am able to get a few favorite foods of Billy's with our ration stamps, but this time the market was out. Billy was not happy to get a different food—he had another 45 minute temper tantrum about this. My poor boy was even scratching himself and trying to pull his new hair out.

Ivan, I am worried sick about his behavior. Why would he do this? I realize that it probably is because he still isn't talking yet and can only do this to communicate. What can I do to get him to communicate? Sometimes I wonder if he knows anything around him—including me—are even here.

The doctor came to the house. He told me he was worried by Billy's lack of development and then began questioning me about my style of parenting. He almost blamed me for Billy's lack of speech! Can you believe that? Does he really think I want my child to be this way?

Things may seem bad but I need to keep up hope he will make improvements, and this will be like a bad dream. Hope is the only thing that keeps me from crying. I also have a determination to be the best mother I can be, despite the doctor's suspicions.

I have been given support from as many people as I can find, including our minister. I have met with him and he said he would pray for me. He gave me advice that he thinks Billy's lack of speech is like an impossible mission, which needs an entire team to pull off. At least he is tolerant enough not to think Billy is the spawn of Satan due to his tantrums, which is what another parishioner thinks!

I have been praying to Mama in Heaven. I wish she was here to give me child-rearing guidance. How would she be helping Billy? Am I doing something wrong? Please excuse any smudges in my handwriting as I was attempting not to cry as I wrote this out.

I sure wish you were here to help out.

Love,

Josephine Kinchloe Harris

Kinch paled as he finished the letter. He couldn't believe the emotions swirling around inside him: sadness over Billy's condition, sympathy with Josephine's despair and anger about the doctor's opinion. There was even a part of him that wished he had stayed in the cooler because then he could've avoided the letter. But that was impractical—he had to know this.

For the first time, he wondered about whether he should ask Hogan to go home. Carter almost went home and that was only because the crafty Hogan had the power to do it. Once home, Kinch knew he could be of help- it looked like Josephine had her hands full.

But then he thought about the reason he was here and what a privilege it was to serve. He was here because a fruitcake currently running Berlin was trying to take over the world. He knew the Führer had low tolerance for people who were different than him and Kinch shivered as he thought of what might happen if the Führer took over the United States. Billy seemed to be doubly cursed—not only did he have these physical limitations, but he was black, too. What would the Führer do with a child such as Billy?

A wave of despair and hopelessness hit Kinch as he thought about possible answers to that question. A single tear escaped his eyes and he put his face into his hands. He kept his hands there for a little while as he quietly sobbed. He was so preoccupied that he missed someone coming down the tunnel stairs.

HH

Hogan stepped down off the ladder and found Kinch in tears. When Hogan had heard from Schultz that Kinch needed his help, Hogan thought Schultz was pulling his leg. Sometimes the others would not tell him things, but Kinch was always one who did. Now it looked like Schultz had told Hogan the truth and Hogan was pained about why Kinch chose to react this way. Hogan respected Kinch greatly and knew there had to be a good reason for keeping it to himself. With this in mind, he kept still and silent. He wasn't about to force a confession until Kinch was ready.

* * *

Dizzy Dean was a baseball pitcher who played for both the Cardinals and Cubs in the wartime era. He is in the National Baseball Hall of Fame.

Source: Wikipedia article on Dizzy Dean

Sadly, criticism of Josephine's parenting is typical of the time for parents of developmental delayed children. In future years, the now debunked theory that an emotionally distant parent (almost always he mother) was to blame for what is now known as autism became known as "refrigerator mother theory."

Source: An Article Titled "Early Infantile Autism and Refrigerator Mother Theory 1943-1970" from Embryo Project Encyclopedia, available online


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